


horrid and vile (thats what you are).

by valvet



Category: Doom Patrol (TV)
Genre: "Its Not Sexual Its Just Red Jack", Blood and Injury, Emotional Roller Coaster, Gen, M/M, Mania, Mental Health Issues, Some Plot, Stabbing, Stream of Consciousness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-13
Updated: 2020-11-13
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:02:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27533476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valvet/pseuds/valvet
Summary: Eric and his no good bad awful emotional roller coasters, or; how to not deal with your mental health problems, an autobiographical event.
Relationships: Red Jack/Eric Morden
Kudos: 2





	horrid and vile (thats what you are).

**Author's Note:**

> >be me  
> >writing this: boy i hope i'm not projecting onto this and or making this vent writing.  
> >proceeds to do that  
> >fml

Eric doesn’t remember what it's like not to hate, he hates -- horribly so. It eats at him so badly, never in his entire life did he wish for death to himself just to make it stop, for Niles and the rest of those bastards to cease so he could rest. Even when he was alive -- or at least not fractured into millions of pieces, he hated, he seethed and raged deep inside where nobody could find it, now all that was shown on his face was it; it burned into his skin itself.

It's awful, and Eric knows that, but yet -- he can’t stop it, he goes on with “life” as he does, still not breathing, he takes the intricate jeweled knife Jack had given to him when he desired him and plunged it into his doorway, opening up his house with it. Its a bad decision, he knows that he isn’t dumb, but its what has to be done to make the itch, the horrible ache leave for a moment.

“Mr. Morden?” His voice is trying to mock the idea of comfort, Eric steps forward into the light, and looks right into Jack’s horribly dark eyes, they suck up everything of pleasure from them.

“I know you just saw me, no need to start a damn monologue,” even his words are hateful, even if he thinks, (because he does think, a bit more than most vile men like him should) he loves him. 

“Ah -- oh, I see,” predatory, almost, the way his eyes dilate and his teeth show, hands clasping together at the prospect of what Eric is even suggesting. 

“You know what I’m asking of already -- thank god, I can’t ask to even try and put it into words,” it's so hard to be in pain, especially when relief comes from hurting others -- at least Red Jack likes getting hurt, heaven forbid he had to feel empathy. 

“Oh but I love hearing those words, but if you insist, then I allow my body to be your cutting board,” so damn poetic for a man who was about to get annihilated. 

And he would, by god he better. 

“Then give me your dagger, and put yourself on the table, I’m not going through the dirty talk and dance this time around,” not like he was any good at that -- he wasn’t damn good at anything.

“Suit yourself then, Mr Morden, but I wouldn’t mind your prose”

“If you keep talking I’m taking out your tongue first,” oh boo-hoo, Eric, you hate being given love. Why even bother? It’s not like he really loves you, it's all a mimicry of what he -- it thinks love is, at least Cecil knew what it was before he turned into a miserable overly pretentious asshole. Or are you just projecting, huh?

Eric took the dagger in hand and plunged it right into Jack’s back, it went through his skin like a butter, blood didn’t come out though, not until he pulled out, then it sprayed, like the way it would with high pressure. Not like he cared anymore though, it wasn’t thick either, which was good, getting blood off of clothes was a hassle. 

“ _ Morden _ ,” his voice wasn’t broken, not yet, but desperate, needy. Eric took it again and began the rough process of trying to decimate Jack, he put a leg around his, bending himself over just to get to his neck. 

Eric remembered when he first fucked a man, it was sad, really, his disgusting moans as he pounded that prostitute into a wall, he paid him extra just for the hassle of having to deal with him. Thank god long after he died, sexually transmitted viruses weren’t his favorite thing in the world. Besides, it wasn’t like he was any good, even Cecil knew that, hell that was his whole thing -- telling him how wrong he was.

“You damn freak, get my name out of your mouth,” Eric couldn’t help but complain, even if he didn’t mind being admired, being recognized. Then, he put the knife against Jack’s neck, but didn’t slit it, instead, he waited there, having breathing in between the two of them; a horrid sight, Jack grinded himself into Eric’s crotch.

“ _ Please _ ,” he begged, the creature begged, “cut me open”

“Mhm, try harder than that, I’m depressed not moronic,” Eric knew that was most definitely a lie, he was beyond bad at his own job, life and death, the only thing he was good at was making other people miserable.

“God -- Mr. Nobody, slit my throat open already! I beg of you!” 

Maybe it was mocking, maybe it was genuine, but that drove him to put it right through his neck, dagger first through the middle until he saw it come out the other side, the shirek Jack let out was one he would never want to forget, this being made from the agony of others, who viciously murdered and maimed was weeping at the pleasure he felt by his own hands.

A grin came on his face finally, took him long enough to start having a mania induced episode, only took a bunch of self-loathing and having to stab his lover, but at least he got to it.

But…

Was it worth it? For god sakes of course he was doubting himself now, even as he twisted the knife around and could see obvious saliva drooling down this bastard’s face. He should be happy over having his ego boosted for Christ sakes! Not immediately coming down from his episode! Eric gritted his teeth before pulling it out, then bringing right into the back of his head, and that certainly gave a reaction, one that brought out aggressive jittering and more importantly, lust induced begs.

“Morden! Good Christ I -- don’t stop!” 

“Don’t plan onto”

Another blow to the head, and another wave of getting complimented, it just kept going -- and going.

And going and going and going and going and going and going and going and ---

Then Eric was covered in blood, lots of it at that, Jack before him with a twisted smile, covered in stab marks and a wet spot in his pants -- he couldn’t call him a freak for that, Eric was the one stabbing him. Like the way he’d treat a prostitute now, he tossed him back his dagger.

“Aren’t you going to kiss me, Mr. Morden?” You deserve this.

“Fine, no tongue, I -- I can’t ask to go through another emotional roller coaster now”

“Fair enough,” Jack paused, “you did well though, if it wasn’t for your current occupation you’d make a fine apprentice” 

He almost went red in the face at that, but still; he kissed him a goodbye and left. No exchanges of numbers or declarations of love, just plain old whorish activities. At least now he felt “better” (he wouldn’t for long, not ever.) 

Probably not, even still, with all the boosting and the current state, it would eventually dwindle, die out, like everybody else had done to him in return.

In all sense of the words, fuck his entire life up the ass.


End file.
